by Ann Charles
On second thought, Claire would talk to Mac and Ruby. Let them weigh the risks.
Staring at the watch, she could see why someone would break into Ruby’s place to steal it. Its beauty alone would certainly lure eager fingers, even without the added value of its legacy.
A bag with a red and black angular design woven into the natural-looking fibers filled the bottom shelf from side to side, its width crammed into the space. Claire had seen similar, but more detailed and sophisticated, versions of the design on some Anasazi and Mogollon pottery at the Arizona State Museum.
The office door hinges creaked behind her.
“Claire?” Jess whispered.
Claire tried to slam the safe door closed before Jess could take full inventory of the pieces inside, but the locking bolts still stuck out, so the door bounced back open.
The bag fell onto the floor before Claire could catch it. She pushed the door shut again and held it there this time while frowning at Jess. “I told you to stay put. Who’s watching the store?”
“Nobody. It’s been dead all morning.”
“Jess, your mom said—”
“I locked the door and taped up a note that we’ll be back in five minutes. For all they know, I had to use the bathroom.” Jess squatted next to Claire and pointed toward the bag. “What’s that? Some old toy?”
A horse made out of bound twigs stuck half way out of the bag.
Claire let go of the safe door, which remained mostly closed this time. She picked up the twig figure. “I don’t think it’s a toy.”
“Are there more of them in the bag?”
Claire laid the figure on her thigh and gingerly reached her hand in the bag opening. Something scratchy brushed her fingertips, some kind of cloth, possibly. She pulled it out and unrolled it.
“Looks like some kind of homemade sandal,” she said, brushing her fingers over the rectangular sole made of brittle, woven fibers. There was a hole in the heel where the fibers had loosened or worn away. A strip of scarred, tattered leather hung from it.
“This might be the piece that tied it to your ankle.” Several strands of what felt like human hair lay in a flat loop near the front edge. “And this could be for your big toe.”
“Cool.” Jess echoed Claire’s thoughts. “How old do you think it is? All of the drawings in our history books show the native people wearing moccasins.”
“I don’t know.” Claire turned the sandal over, then held it out toward Jess. “My nose is fried. What’s it smell like?”
Jess jerked back. “You want me to sniff a shoe that hasn’t been washed for like hundreds of years? I don’t think so.”
“Come on, you big chicken. I just want to know if it smells like grass or straw or what.”
Jess shook her head.
“I’ll give you a dollar.”
“Make it twenty.”
Claire laughed. “Dream on. How about five?”
“I won’t do it for under ten. I have my standards.”
“Fine, ten. Now smell.”
Jess leaned down and sniffed the sandal.
“Well? Old grass?”
“No. More like old dirt.”
Claire rubbed her brow. Why would something hidden for years in Joe’s safe smell like dirt?
Jess nodded at the bag. “It looks like there is something still in there.”
Claire stuck her hand in past her wrist this time. There was something in the bottom. The texture reminded Claire of dried leather, the surface bumpy. As she tried to draw it out, it kept getting caught in the fibers of the bag.
“What is it?” Jess leaned close, her eyes wide.
Claire could actually smell the fruity perfume Jess had been spritzing all morning, which meant the kid must be swimming in it. Ruby’s poor customers were in for a treat if they popped into the General Store today.
With a gentle, but firm tug, Claire pulled the last item free. She flipped it over and blinked.
Holy shit!
Jess screamed in her ear.
* * *
“I found a hand,” Claire whispered to Kate an hour later over a BLT sandwich while the two of them sat on The Shaft’s back patio.
“You found a what?” Kate blurted.
“Shhh! A hand.” Claire swallowed some sweet, icy lemonade. Finally, her taste buds were coming back online.
Kate pushed her Jackie O sunglasses on top of her head. “You mean the kind with five fingers.”
“Four—the thumb’s partly chewed off.”
“Why are you whispering? There’s nobody else crazy enough to sit out here in this sauna.”
“I don’t know.” Claire brushed away a drop of sweat running down from her temple.
The sun blazed all around them, the large overhead umbrella spotlighting them with shade, which did little to quell the pizza-oven heat. The slight breeze barely ruffled the string of plastic Arizona state flags hanging from the gutter, let alone cut the pea-soup-thick humidity. The glass door into the bar was closed, no doubt to keep the cool air inside.
Eating in the heat usually made Claire nauseated, but she needed to talk to her sister in private, and there was no such thing as privacy at the R.V. park—not with Jess and Deborah patrolling the place. And while Kate hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of eating at The Shaft and possibly running into Butch again, no pun intended, Claire had assured her the bar owner took Sundays off. So here they were, roasting and bloating like two-day-old road kill.
On that thought, Claire pushed the last half of her sandwich away and focused on her glass of lemonade. It was sweating, too.
Kate swallowed the last of her sandwich. Vertical lines creased the skin between her blonde eyebrows. “A real hand?”
Claire nodded. “Mummified.”
“That’s disgusting.” Kate’s nose wrinkled. “Did you bring it with you?”
“Of course not. It’s not a rabbit’s foot. It’s a freakin’ human hand.”
Claire shivered at the memory of the feel of the hardened leathery skin, similar to the stiff pig’s ears Henry liked to chew on while watching Gunsmoke with Gramps.
Jess’s reaction still had Claire’s eardrums aching. Bribery hadn’t been enough to keep the teenager’s lips sealed about their find. Claire had had to resort to blackmail, too.
Which reminded her, before returning to Ruby’s, they had to swing by the hardware store to buy the pink fuzzy makeup bag on display in the Ladies’ Department—aka Aisle Ten: Housewares, Hosiery, and Hygiene.
“Why was Joe keeping it in a safe?” Kate asked. “Who keeps a mummy’s hand in their office?”
These were questions that Claire had already asked herself over and over. Where had the hand come from? Was there a body somewhere too? How long did it take for a body to mummify anyway?
First thing tomorrow, she planned to make a trip to the library in Yuccaville to find some answers. “You got me.”
“Do you think it belonged to someone he knew?”
“No. I think Joe would have gotten rid of a body, removed all evidence, not kept souvenirs. He might have been a bad man, but he wasn’t twisted.”
The patio door slid open and Mac stepped out into the sunshine, shading his eyes.
Claire frowned. She hadn’t expected to see him for another few hours.
Kate sipped at her water, oblivious that Mac was walking up behind her. “Are you going to show it to Sheriff Harrison?”
“Show what to the sheriff?” Mac pulled out the chair next to Claire. He skimmed her lips with a kiss and then dropped into the chair.
Claire gave him bonus points for not making any skunk comments.
“Claire found a hand.” Kate’s blue eyes sparkled.
“How’d you know we were here?” Claire asked Mac, wondering if he’d been back to the perfumery, as she now called the General Store.
“I saw Ruby’s Ford out front and figured it was you. Harley wouldn’t let you drive Mabel in your condition, huh?”
“He said she’
s off limits until I stop peeling paint from the walls.” Claire offered him a drink of her lemonade.
“Tell him about the hand, Claire.”
Mac took a big gulp, then set it back down in front of Claire. “What’s Kate talking about?”
“First,” Claire said, “tell me why you’re back from the mine so soon.” Mac didn’t change his plans on a whim. She had the feeling something had changed them for him.
“I saw something I didn’t like,” Mac answered, “so I cut out of there early.” He nodded at Claire’s sandwich, his eyebrows raised. She shoved the plate toward him.
“Claire figured out how to open the safe,” Kate said.
“You opened the safe?” He bit into the BLT.
“Yes.” Claire waved his question off. That was old news. She wanted to hear his story. “What did you see in the mine?”
Kate grabbed Mac’s arm, gaining his attention. “She figured out the PIN based on clues Joe had planted in the campground map.”
Mac turned back to Claire. “I saw a cup. How did you figure out the map had the answers?”
“What do you mean you saw a cup? Mac, you’re not making sense. Tell me what happened.” It wasn’t like him to turn tail and run, not even in the face of a pissed off javelina.
“Inside the safe was a mummy hand,” Kate added.
“A mummy hand?” Mac stopped chewing and leaned toward Claire. “Has Kate been drinking already?”
“Claire, tell him about the hand.”
“Okay, stop, both of you.” Claire’s head spun. The heat wasn’t helping matters. Another hour out here and she’d be wringing out her underwear. “Mac, you explain what happened at the mine, and then I’ll fill you in on the safe.”
Mac swallowed the last bite of her BLT and pushed the plate to the side. “There’s not much to tell. Somebody visited the mine last night after I left.”
“Could it have been some kids up there partying?” Claire asked.
“I didn’t see any beer bottles or roaches, just a paper coffee cup with a few drips still in it.”
Claire sat forward, trying to ignore that her deodorant was melting down her ribs. “You think someone from the mining company was checking it out?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about that lawyer you told me about?” Kate said to Claire. “The one who keeps sending Ruby letters about the Lucky Monk. Could he have hired someone to check out the mine?”
“That’s a possibility. Or maybe Joe hid something in there and one of his old cronies is back in town to get it.”
Kate was sitting forward now too. “Or maybe somebody went up there last night to hide something in one of the chambers.”
“They could have been dumping a body down a shaft!” Claire’s voice rose in excitement.
Kate grinned. “That reminds me of when we found that dead porcupine floating in that water-filled shaft in the mine behind Gramps’s place.”
“Whoa, both of you!” Mac pointed at Claire, his gaze serious. “Listen, Agatha Christie, let’s keep to the facts for now. Your wild theories last spring landed you in the hospital.”
“Fine.” Sighing, Claire crossed her arms over her chest. But she was going to explore this subject more later, preferably in the Lucky Monk’s cool interior, possibly without Mac present.
“Now, tell me about the safe.” Mac sat back in his chair.
Claire took a deep breath and caught him up on the whole story. Kate listened wide-eyed–some of the tale new to her, some of it a repeat.
“So, why do I have a feeling you’re not going to turn this mummified hand into the police?” he asked.
“They’ll just put it in a plastic bag and lock it away in a filing cabinet somewhere. This is too important.”
“How do you know it’s important?”
“Mac, it’s mummified. You know that process doesn’t happen overnight. Wherever this hand came from, there’s probably a body too, and I have a feeling Joe knew where it was.”
“I still want to know why he stuffed the hand in his wall safe,” Kate said.
Claire shrugged. “Maybe he skimmed the bag and its contents from a shipment of stolen artifacts he was transporting.”
Mac crunched on a piece of ice. “I’m sure the state archaeological society would be interested in looking at it.”
Maybe Mac knew somebody at the university who could help them. Claire smiled at him, touching his arm, preparing to spread some honey.
Mac laughed and caught her hand. “No way, gorgeous. Don’t even ask.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, softening the blow of his refusal. “Why don’t you just let the authorities figure this out? You have enough to do with running the store and campground while Ruby and Harley are away, plus taking care of Jess.”
Kate grinned. “And your mother.”
“But what if there are more artifacts hidden around Ruby’s place?” Claire tried to ignore the feel of his fingers now tickling her inner forearm. The cheater—he knew that usually made her all breathy and wobbly-kneed. “If I turn these things in and the wrong person catches wind of it, we may have more than a burglar prowling around the place.”
“You think that’s what the burglar was looking for?” Kate asked.
Claire shook her head. “I’d lay my money on that pocket watch. It has to be worth some bucks.”
Kate tucked a curl behind her ear. “You think Joe skimmed that too?”
“Who knows?” Claire pulled her arm from Mac’s grasp. She was already hot and bothered thanks to the sun and Joe’s shenanigans. Much more of Mac’s teasing and she’d melt into a sticky pool of goo on the patio.
“The problem with Joe is he’s dead,” she continued. “We have no idea how deep his hands were in this shit.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Mac blew out a breath. “Claire, you’re endangering everyone staying at Ruby’s. If we let the sheriff know, he can provide some security. Possibly have his deputy drive through the R.V. park a couple of times a night—at least while Ruby and Harley are on their honeymoon and I’m in Tucson.”
“You don’t think we girls can take care of ourselves?”
“There are always Manny and Chester.” Kate threw out.
“Those guys are too busy chasing tail,” Mac said.
He had a point there. “You’re forgetting about Ruby’s guns. I’m no stranger to a trigger, Mac.” Claire reminded him.
“That’s reassuring.”
Claire stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m telling you, our best bet is keeping our lips sealed. Right now, we have one burglar. We tell the world what’s in that safe, and we could end up with several of Joe’s old business associates milling around. It’ll be like a modern-day version of the O.K. Corral.”
Kate stood, fanning her yellow T-shirt she’d snagged at the secondhand store. “The ladies’ room is calling. I’ll be back.”
“What are you going to do next?” Mac asked as Kate left.
“Visit the library and see if the Anasazi or Mogollon cultures mummified their dead. I’ll also see if I can find out more about that pocket watch.”
Mac captured her right hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Why do I have the feeling that by the time I get back Friday night, you’re going to be up to your ears in trouble?”
Claire scooted closer to him, wishing he weren’t leaving her for five long days and nights. She was going to miss his touch, his scent—well, that was, as soon as her nose started fully working again.
“I’ll be good. Kate will keep me out of trouble.”
“Right.” He chuckled, capturing her chin and drawing her lips toward his. “She’s the kettle, and you’re black. Just promise me you’ll stay out of the mines.”
Under the table, Claire crossed her fingers on her free hand. “Sure.”
“Claire.” His tone warned as his breath brushed her lips.
She crossed her ankles. “I promise. Now kiss me like you mean it.”
* * *
Ka
te wiped her hands on a paper towel and pulled open the ladies’ room door. She stepped out into the narrow hallway and collided with a black shirt and a wall of chest.
“Oof!” she said, stumbling sideways.
A pair of hands grabbed her and kept her from hitting the wall.
“Sorry about th—” His voice trailed off as she locked gazes with a familiar pair of dark blue eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”
Butch didn’t sound happy to see her. He looked shorter without his white cowboy hat. His reddish-blonde hair curled at his collar.
“We keep running into each other.” Wincing at her own words, Kate tried to laugh off her embarrassment, but it came out high-pitched, squeaky around the edges.
His eyes narrowed. “I suppose you’re going to tell me I should’ve let you know I was walking down the hall before you came busting out of the bathroom and slammed into me.”
She deserved that, but he didn’t have to glare at her like she’d run over his foot.
She’d screwed up royally when it came to handling that accident. Hours of doodling on the concrete wall in a jail cell had given her plenty of time to realize the error of her ways. It was time to clear the slate and start over.
Lifting her chin, she said, “Listen, I need to talk to you, Mr. … Butch.” She had yet to learn the man’s last name and she doubted he’d appreciate her calling him Mr. Bartender.
He held up his hand, stopping her. “I’m too tired for this today after being up all night.”
Now that he mentioned it, his eyes were slightly bloodshot around the rims.
“I just want to say—”
“I think you said enough last time, Miss Morgan. Goodbye.”
Without a backwards glance, he strode past her and pushed through the men’s room door, the creaking hinges his encore.
Kate stared after him, her mouth hanging open, stunned by his abrupt departure. So she’d been a pain the day of the accident. That was no reason to be so rude in return. He was going to hear her apology whether he wanted to or not.
She marched to the men’s room door and lifted her hand to knock, but halted, her hand in the air. What was she going to do? Talk to him through a slab of wood? Ask if she could join him?
Before she could change her mind, she closed her eyes, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.